


two for the show

by weatheredlaw



Series: still with hearts beating [1]
Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Ableist Language, Alcohol, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Discussion of Anal Fisting, F/M, Fisting, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:52:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lester contemplates all the possibilities. Every last one of them. | <i>well, you can knock me down, step in my face, slander my name all over the place</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	two for the show

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mariachillin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariachillin/gifts).



> fairly self-indulgent fic for me and a friend. these fuckers, man.

Guy like him, he's got a reputation to maintain. 

Karla Sofen's a piece of work, he knows that. No more than he is, but sometimes he thinks maybe more so. They've only been in Osborn's club a week and she's freaked him out more than a few times. It's her eyes -- she can stare and stare and not even _blink_ and it drives Lester out of his mind. 

Daken leaves them after the first five seconds at the bar, Mac went to some dive down the street, Ares is probably trying to patrol or something honorable. Lester doesn't even know _what_ Bob is, let alone _where_ he is. So it's him and Karla at the bar, watching people, trying to outdrink one another. Their combined alcohol tolerance is through the fucking _roof_

So he can't really blame this entire situation on the booze. Not really. 

"You're out of your fucking mind," he mutters, watching her turn the lock on the bathroom door. She shrugs and turns to him, grabbing his shirt and dragging him in to kiss him, all teeth and teeth and _teeth_ , biting at his lips and sucking his tongue harshly into her mouth. 

"Like this is the most _salacious_ thing you've ever done," she snaps back, hiking up her skirt and leaning against the exposed wall of the bathroom to peel off her underwear. He notices the wet spot. "Come on, then--" Lester _growls_ and presses his hands flat against her thighs and sits her on the bathroom sink, dropping to his knees in front of her and _burying_ his mouth in her cunt without warning. She's sopping wet, dripping down his chin in seconds, and makes all the right noises. She's a pro, knows how to make him feel special, but he's not really interested in that. 

She comes against his mouth, makes this beautiful noise as she lets go, and is totally composed when he blinks and looks up at her. 

"Let me down." She's only saying that to be police, but she wants to reciprocate. And it's not like Lester doesn't _want_ that, if the massive bulge in his jeans that she keeps reaching down to stroke isn't any indication.

But he kind of has other ideas.

Karla scowls. " _Lester--_ "

He leans in close, mouth wet with her come, and presses against her ear. "You know what I want?" He presses his fingers against her cunt, stroking her clit and feeling her shiver against him. "I know what I want." Lester nudges her legs further apart and presses one finger inside her. She clenches instinctively around him and pants, throwing her head back and muttering _what what what do you want tell me fuck_ \-- "I think you _do_ know." He pushes two more fingers in and she moans. "And you're just holding back on me." He pushes a fourth finger inside her, and she stretches beautifully, like her cunt was made for every inch of his hand.

Karla knows what he's doing. She clenches around him and nods. Lester pumps his fingers in and out of her, watching them disappear further inside each time before he finally manages to slide past his knuckles. She screams. 

"You're a mess," he murmurs, leaning forward and biting her bottom lip. "You're a fucking mess and I'm gonna stick my whole fist in your cunt and fuck the shit out of you. And you want it, don't you?"

" _Fuck you_ \--"

"Maybe when we get back. I'd like to see you do that. I'd like to watch, lay on my back and let you do the same to me. I bet you want to, don't you?" Karla moans. "I bet you want to do exactly what I'm doing right now. Get your whole hand in my ass, your whole fist, press right inside me, all the way. Get you all slicked up, let you fuck me. Bet you'd love it, wouldn't you? Just a little bit more, you're doin' so good." The comforting words seem to loosen her up, just a bit, just enough for him to tuck his thumb in against his palm and curl his fingers. 

And there it is. Her whole body closing around his hand, the two of them connected at the most intimate part of her. She's laid out raw under him, mouth open and no sound coming out. Lester hikes out of her legs over his shoulder and presses in deeper. He's sure she's done this before -- the way her body knows exactly what position to be in -- but he's been here before, too, and he knows that each time it feels _different_ , someone else on the other side, always saying something different. 

Lester will never say he saw tears at the corners of her eyes. Not ever. Not once.

She comes spectacularly around his fist, digging her nails into his arm and drawing blood. Lester's cock twitches in his jeans as he watches it roll over her, until she's a panting, sweating mess on the bathroom sink. The counter is wet under her thighs. When he finally pulls out his hand, come is dripping down his arm. He licks it clean as Karla watches, her lips curled happily. 

He finally lets her take care of his cock, watching it disappear into her mouth, watching her take him all the way to the root and suck, sending him over the edge faster than he'd like to. She swallows everything down before getting shakily back up and kissing him. There's no teeth in this one -- she seems tired, kissing him lazily, smugly.

Almost affectionately. 

It's not like it's impossible. Lester's...he is what he is, but that doesn't mean he doesn't _want_ some things. That doesn't mean that he doesn't look at her and imagine them as different people with different lives. She's...she could have been something else. And here she is. She isn't _nothing_ , but things could have been different. 

It carries on that way for quite a while, until she breaks off with a tiny intake of breath, like she's surprised she let it get this far. 

"Sorry."

Lester blinks. Karla's _never_ apologized. Not genuinely.

He sniffs.

"Whatever. We're gonna get kicked out." She nods and bends down, sliding her underwear over her heels and up her legs. The minute she's out of the door, he loses track of her, and he doesn't see her til the next morning at their typically dysfunctional team breakfast, where she lobs a spoonful of warm oatmeal on his head and says something crass that makes Victoria scold her.

Yeah. Whatever.

Lester flicks several orange slices in succession at her neck.

_We're good._


End file.
